Dating : Evening Assignments

Part Two: Of bubble baths and whispers

Every minute that she spent feeding off Billy’s body heat was a piece of a beautiful memory she wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Every stroke was like a direct line of lightning that brought her entire being alive. Until she bit of that forbidden fruit, she didn’t know she had been starving.

In her line of work, romance was petty and results were king -or in her case, queen- and she had spent a great part of her life sharpening her sight, to remain focus and goal-oriented. Ten years after she made that decision at 18, her works have brought her the recognition others only dream of and wealth that was mythical for a woman her age, hustling on the streets of Molyko.

It was a little over 8 pm when her car pulled out of the parking lot, her hands were shaky from the intensity of the manifestation of her wildest imagination. It was more than she bargained for and she was never one to turn down more for less. As would a gentleman, Billy offered to take her home, but the boss lady complex she had come to embrace wouldn’t allow her to let the beautiful war machine sweep her off her feet.

She remembered the relief on Billy’s face when his fight was over, and the feeling of him growing limp inside her. She would have sworn she saw a sea of pride envelop his face, a hard contrast to the fear that froze him when the door swung open. She felt his muscles contract to a rocklike texture.
In her waltz into his office, she’d been too goal-oriented to properly shot the door which swung open later on and almost caused her a heart attack.

She had just driven past Malingo junction, heading towards mile 17 and praying that the lights zooming past don’t hypnotize her presently fragile mind. She lived in a beautiful flat at Bolifamba, designed for a queen like herself, or so the landlord had said when she agreed to the half a million-monthly rent. She never regretted the deal, far from the noisy streets of Molyko and in a discreet corner, hers was one of 8 flats in the magnificent 5-floor building that first introduced beauty to Bolifamba. The floors were covered in fine ebony wood and the ceiling was the work of a true artist. Her walls were mesmerizingly white and covered in the best pieces of artwork she could find; her favorite was a 6 million FCFA piece by a Northwestern artist that spoke to her in ways she wished it didn’t but had grown a steady addiction for.

Though envied by most of her peers and former classmates, Joan had already begun feeling the sting of success. The wholehearted devotion she put into herself and her career that brought her so much had taken even more. She faced all her demons alone, with no one to lean on or run to. Over time, her devotion to her career had systematically changed the multitude of friends that once surrounded her with an even bigger group of competitors; all seeking to bring her down.

Of everything that her beautiful empty house reminded her of, the most painful was the fact that she had not been able to secure a man for herself. Her coaches had all told her to focus on becoming who she was, but lately, she had begun to wonder whether she knew who that was. Whether who she thought she was wasn’t just some fictitious reality she had conjured to help survive the turmoil of an empty life crawling with whispers of megalomania.

Before Billy, Joan hadn’t known a man for years; where she used to see gender, she saw just opponents to dribble past. Billy had been her gasp of fresh air in a life that threatened to drown what social links she had left. He was like a dessert she shouldn’t have, but equally like a fountain in the Kalahari, spouting fresh water laced with a rare addictive.

As she stepped out of her car, struggling to arrange her crumpled-up blouse before any nosey neighbors got the wiser, her phone buzzed and fell to the ground facing up. A sheepish smile covered her face when she saw Billy’s name light up her screen. He was calling, no doubt to check on her; what a gentleman was the only thought that crossed her mind. She hadn’t noticed the time pass but the nosey neighbors were staring at her from their windows, wondering why she was standing there looking at the ground for over five minutes. She felt their gaze on her as though accusing her, as though shaming her.

Joan soaked herself in a nice bubble bath that helped soothe her anxious body. She could still feel him over her, his breath bathing her neck in-between kisses and gasps of pleasure. His manly musk still clouded her mind like an effervescence of pleasure, drowning all reason in desire and immeasurable pleasure. She could feel his hand rubbing her thighs and how hard he was, throbbing in her hand as she slid him in. The bust of pleasure had threatened to make her heart stop and had pushed her to relinquish all control to him; she’d had no better ride.

She pulled herself out of her memories and out of her bubble bath; with only bubbles to mask her nudity, she walked across her bath to her room and picked up her cell phone. There was another missed call from Billy which birthed another sheepish smile on her face. She poured herself a glass of wine from her bedside stash of wine assortments before heading back to her bath.

His was an MTN number to which she placed a return call as she soaked in her bath again. She placed the phone on hand free and listened to the playback sound MTN installs to entertain callers as they wait for an answer. His was “Sawa Romance” by Cameroonian music star Locko; a fitting tune.
His deep voice sounded concerned when he finally answered,

“I was, worried sick, I thought something crazy had happened. Are you home?”
She nodded but then quickly realized the futility of her action and replied in words.

“I apologize for not getting to you sooner, one thing led to another. And yes, I am home”
He let out an audible sigh of relief that convinced Joan of the sincerity of his concern.

“thinking about you” she said, in a soft tone overladen with fear and uncertainty. Everything was happening too fast and she had set in motion variables that were beyond her control.

“I miss you already” he replied on the other end of the line in the same low tune but without the fear and uncertainty. His words were coated in reassurance and sincerity. A sheepish smile was crawling up her face again and she had no intentions to fight it; either Billy did care or he was such a man. Unsure of what to say next, she decided to go with the first thought that crossed her mind.

“I am soaking in my bath, I am thinking video call, what do you say?”

Billy let out a laugh that sounded like music to her;
“I’ll rather not”, he said, “I’m already missing you enough already, no need to get the little man involved now, is there?”

Over an hour later, Joan’s room was silent again. She could hear Pavarotti from her neighbor’s flat and it was just what she needed to recollect herself. Now in her thin linen pajamas, Joan went about putting her affairs in place for the following day; a little over 10 pm. The buzz of her phone pulled her attention from what she was doing and she half ran, half jumped to the phone. Crazily, she hoped to see a freaky goodnight text from Billy. Instead, the was a single-lined message from an unknown number. It read,

“I saw”

…to be continued.

Read Part one here Ngang God’swill N. 2020